Late summer lingers. We tarry on the verge of Autumn. The equinox arrives this week. It will come, the earth will move through one of the great annual milestones on its journey around the sun, the circle will remain unbroken, and we may not even notice. Unless one knows how to read the sky, it’s hard to be sure exactly where the earth is in its travels. But even without such surety, we know it is time. We know Autumn is arriving. We know a transition, a movement, a time of turning and returning, is upon us.
We know it in the red and orange leaves dotting lawns and sidewalks.
We know it in apples ripening in orchards.
We know it in the bustle and the bounty at farmers markets.
We know it in the preparations for the second harvest festival and the harvest themes and Halloween displays popping up at grocery stores.
We know it in the coolness of the rain (no longer the warm July kind steaming on wet pavement).
We know it in wondering which jacket to wear against the slightly crisp morning air.
We know it in the evening breeze.
We know it in trying to remember where we stored the blankets last April.
We know it in our skin, in our blood, in our lungs. We know it in our bones—a deep, soul-knowing.
Let us revel in this knowing. Let us celebrate this knowing. Let us find hope and solace in this knowing. Let us find peace in this knowing. And let us find strength and courage in this knowing, strength and courage to embrace the transitions and turnings of our lives with the grace and gravity of planets journeying slowly around stars.
Amen and blessed be.
Excerpt from Restless Souls by Leigh Eric Schmidt
“‘One day I woke up and wondered: maybe today I should be a Christian, or would I rather be a Buddhist, or am I just a Star Trek Freak?’ So one woman playfully told a sociologist who studies contemporary American religion. Reports on the mushrooming growth of a culture of spiritual seeking have become journalistic commonplace. As the Utne Reader asked in a cover story in 1998 called ‘Designer God,’ ‘In a mix-and-match world, why not create your own religion?’ Eclectic devotions, creedal crossings, consumer sampling, and individualistic expression are widely seen as the religious order of the day. ‘I cannot describe my spiritual practice as Buddhist,… or as Hindu or Catholic or Sufi, though I feel that in a sense it is all of these,’ the feminist writer Carol Lee Flinders concludes of her wayfaring. ‘I meditate as best I can on Native American prayers and Taoist verses, on passages drawn from the Bible or the Upanishads, on passionate love songs composed for the One Beloved by a Spanish monk or an Indian princess-turned-minstrel.’ Flinders’ spiritual exertions are hardly uncommon these days. The act of journeying across the bounds of traditions, denominations, and institutions has emerged as a familiar, if still creative, course of exploration for many Americans. From Jewish-Buddhist contemplatives to yoga-performing Methodists, more and more seekers have been finding spiritual insight through a medley of practices and pieties.”
The Rev. Joshua Mason Pawelek
Unitarian Universalist Society: East
Manchester, CT
September 17th, 2006
A few years ago I was listening to one of those conservative talk radio shows while driving to Boston. It was Valentine’s Day. The topic was relationships. I can’t remember the point, but I didn’t agree with it, so I called in. Unitarian Universalist ministers have a fairly easy time getting onto these shows. The hosts often welcome a liberal religious voice precisely so they can skewer us with their withering, socially conservative rhetoric. Knowing I would likely be skewered, I was ready for anything. As the call progressed I held my own—I was actually getting my point across on the air—until the host took a jab at the Unitarian Universalist Achilles’ Heal. “Unitarian, huh? Isn’t that the religion where you can believe anything you want?”
“What? No. That’s not true at all,” I stammered.
“Oh don’t give me that,” said the host. “I know some of you guys. You’re all Jewish Buddhists Pagans. You don’t even believe in God, which proves it.”
“Proves what?” I asked, from the bottom of a now very deep hole.
“Proves you think you can believe anything you want.” And then he ended the conversation. I was off the air. Skewered.
He wasn’t entirely wrong: there are Jewish Buddhist Pagans in this room right now. Unitarian Universalist Jewish Buddhist Pagans. We just sang the words, “From Sinai’s cliffs it echoed.” Jewish. “It breathed from Buddha’s tree.” Buddhist. “It charmed in Athens’ market.” Pagan. Jewish Buddhist Pagans. Gotcha! The hymn also refers to the Jewish followers of Jesus, the Protestant reforms of Martin Luther, New World Puritan Christianity, and 19th century Massachusetts Transcendentalism! Jewish Buddhist Pagan Galilean Protestant Congregational Transcendentalists! He wasn’t entirely wrong.
That was neither the first nor the last time I’ve encountered the question: “Isn’t that the religion where you can believe anything you want?” I suspect many of you have encountered it as well. Those who ask the question—or level the charge—either assume it is true, or they really want it to be true. Sometimes it’s an inflammatory question, like on the radio show—rhetoric meant to discredit and undermine. Sometimes it’s raised as a valid criticism meant to challenge and invite dialogue: what is the worth of a religion if it allows its members to believe whatever they want? If they can believe anything then there’s no core; there’s no way to hold anyone accountable for spiritual living; anything counts; a person can change their beliefs from day to day to suit their mood. These are responsible criticisms. I take them seriously and I think Unitarian Universalists ought to know how to respond to them. What is our core? What holds us accountable? What prevents us from shifting like dessert sands? What keeps us committed?
Sometimes the question comes in a much more supportive and optimistic way, implying a religion that grants its members freedom to explore, search and believe as they feel called is a religion of great worth. These questioners really want it to be true. For people who’ve felt suffocated and stunted in their spiritual growth beneath the weight of religious orthodoxy, the idea you might be able to believe anything you want—or not believe at all—is liberating. “I no longer have to hold my breath when I enter a house of worship. I’m no longer constantly on edge waiting for the worship leader to say something hurtful to me. I can be myself. I can express doubts without fear of reprisal.”
Well, which is it? Are the critics right? Is this a religion without a core, without accountability—a religion whose spiritual seeking goes everywhere and arrives nowhere? Or is it a liberating faith—a beacon of religious freedom, a gentle stream, a rushing river slowly wearing away the rocks of doctrine and superstition? Of course, we ought to embrace both sides of this argument. Religious freedom is liberating. Unitarian Universalism claims tremendous range in terms of personal belief. And if that means we shift like dessert sands from time to time, so be it. We don’t control the wind.
On the other hand, there is no excuse for being what they refer to in the vaunted halls of great seminaries and theological schools as wishy-washy. Unitarian Universalism often appears wishy washy to its detractors; worse, we sometimes find ourselves in the midst of a metaphysical mish mash, sampling from a vast spiritual buffet without ever narrowing the search and developing an authentic sense of spiritual identity and commitment. To avoid this we must hone and cultivate that critical perspective. Let us question not only religious orthodoxies, but Unitarian Universalism itself. Let us demand clarity and precision from our faith. Dare I say it? Let us demand discipline from our faith. We ought to know what holds us accountable, what our core is, and how to develop strong commitments that cannot be shaken when the going gets tough. Let us be thoughtful, selective and intentional in our searching, not random and scattered. Our fourth principle is not the free search for truth and meaning. It is the free and responsible search for truth and meaning. Responsibility is the antidote to wishy-washy religion.
When I preached here in August, and then again last week, I said I intend to deliver a series of sermons on the sources of our Unitarian Universalist living tradition. Vicki Merriam, our Director or Religious Education, and I have been referring to these sources as the building blocks of our faith. For those of you who were not at those services, I want to share the official language, which states: “The living tradition we share draws from many sources:
Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces which create and uphold life; Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion and the transforming power of love; Wisdom from the world’s religions which inspire us in our ethical and spiritual life; Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to respond to God’s love by loving our neighbors as ourselves; Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of mind and spirit; and Spiritual teachings of Earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.”
I love this language—its depth and breadth, its inclusiveness, its theological openness, its possibility. And I can understand why the question gets raised, “Can Unitarian Universalists believe anything they want?” After all, what isn’t included? We’re not just Jewish Buddhist Pagan Galilean Protestant Congregational Transcendentalists! We’re Jewish Buddhist Pagan Galilean Protestant Congregational Transcendentalist atheists with telescopes and microscopes, practicing yoga and reciting Sufi poetry while working for justice. And what exactly is a direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder?” I admit it’s a bit vague. One person looks out upon a panoramic vista and feels queasy and light-headed and calls it an encounter with God. Their spouse of fifty years, standing next to them, looking at the same vista, feels queasy and lightheaded and wonders if they should’ve eaten the breakfast burrito. It could be God. It could be an upset stomach. Or both. How do you know? What criteria do you use to decide whether you’ve had one of these experiences, what it means, or what antacid to buy?
I think the reason our claim to these sources not only confuses non-Unitarian Universalists, but confuses us at times, is that we don’t have an equal relationship to each source. For example, we have a strong relationship to modern Humanism. It was our dominant theology throughout the 20th century. Humanism took shape and evolved within Unitarianism and Universalism. We can claim it as our own. We are also close to Christianity. Unitarianism and Universalism began in the United Sates as liberal Christian denominations. Liberal Christianity is our immediate spiritual and theological heritage. We tend to set Christian theology aside, but not Christian ethics or prophetic witness. We use a Protestant Christian form of governance and a Protestant Christian form of worship. We can claim liberal Christianity as our own.
What about Judaism? Certainly there are Jewish people who have found a home within Unitarian Universalism. But to what degree can Unitarian Universalism claim a Jewish identity? Or a Hindu, Buddhist, or Muslim identity? Unitarians and Universalists have been studying and exploring the so-called world religions seriously since the Transcendentalist movement of the 1840s, and the earth-centered traditions more recently, but we don’t have the same kind of historical and institutional relationship to them as we do to Humanism and Christianity. One of my goals through this series of sermons is to clarify the boundaries between Unitarian Universalism and other religions which we identify as sources. I sense the more we recognize these boundaries, the less we seem like a spiritual buffet.
But there is much more at stake than clarifying boundaries. Last Sunday Vicki and I were talking about the September 11th terrorist attacks and the impact of Hurricane Katrina, and we asked: “do these sources—these Unitarian Universalist building blocks—enable us to respond well to crisis and tragedy?” We said “yes.” There are inevitable moments in our lives when we experience pain and suffering. I’ve had the honor and the challenge of journeying with some of you through such times. I hope that through these sermons each of us might gain some deeper insight into what grounds us when we encounter pain and suffering; what keeps hope alive in us; what inspires us to fight, to struggle, to not give up when everything is falling apart. I view the sources as a guide—a road-map—to living with integrity in the midst of crisis, to responding to pain and suffering with all the grace and dignity we can muster.
Even more fundamental: what about our day-to-day existence, our routine existence, our waking-up-in-the-morning-bathing-shaving-eating-brushing-teeth-changing-diapers-dropping-kids-at-daycare-going-to-work existence? Through these sermons I hope each of us, over the coming months, can gain deeper insight into how the sources of our faith remind us to breath, keep us present, keep us awake to the world and our dynamic place in it, keep us attentive to things ordinary and mundane, enable us to witness and appreciate beauty, enable us to respond with conviction to injustice, call us to recognize and be thankful for the blessings in our lives, instill in us profound love for humanity and the earth—love that serves as a way of life. I believe these sources are the building blocks of a powerful liberal religious spirituality. Articulating that power is the purpose of these sermons.
Can Unitarian Universalists believe anything they want? The answer to any question of belief is never a final, static “yes or no.” It is always a dynamic “yes and no.” Here the “yes” refers to religious freedom. We have freedom of belief. The “no” refers to the responsibility with which we exercise freedom. The “yes” is expansive, unbridled, knowing no limits, always reaching out, always open, always exploring. The “no” reigns in the “yes,” offers parameters, sets limits, provides boundaries. The “no” is always grounded, always asking those critical questions, always respectful of religions that our not ours by heritage. The “yes” is the wings. “Wings set me free.” The “no” is the roots. “Roots hold me close.” They depend on each other. Roots drink water and send it to the trunk and branches so the tree flourishes. Wings—the branches—take in sunlight so the tree may breathe and the roots thrive. Yes and no. Dynamic, cyclical, mutual. Not ‘either-or’ but ‘both-and.’ Not a noun, but a verb. Not solely an ending, but a beginning too. Not a rigid dichotomy—this side starkly opposed to that side—but a fluid relating, a back and forth: freedom and responsibility, faith and doubt, leaving and returning, sky and earth, soaring and grounding, feeling and thinking, spirit and body, powerful and vulnerable, light and dark, good and evil, life and death, transcendent and immanent, being and non-being, yin and yang.
Can UUs believe anything they want? Yes and no. Belief is always less about what one says they believe than how one lives. What we human beings do with our lives demonstrates our actual beliefs, which are not always consistent with what we say we believe, no matter what our faith tradition is. Mature belief is not the result of standing at the spiritual buffet and choosing between broccoli and beets. Critics of Unitarian Universalism can rest assured that is not what we are doing. Mature belief is also not the result of choosing between opposites, between this and that, us and them, the saved and the damned, for there is no ultimate opposition. All is connected, a vast continuum. One arrives at mature belief through a willingness to live, through a willingness to enter the crucible, through trial and error, through learning to live well in the grey areas between black and white where the answers are not clear. To live well, and hence to believe well, we must have opportunities to search far and wide. Through responsible searching some of us become committed Unitarian Universalist Jewish Buddhist Pagans. Some don’t. Either way, through responsible searching we will know, in time, what resonates in our hearts. We will know what inspires us to be voices of love, compassion and justice in the world. We will know what is sacred to us. We will know who we are. We will know it like we know Autumn is coming—in our bones, in our souls, even if we can’t read the sky. We will know it, and therefore we will not believe just anything. But we will surely believe.
Amen and Blessed Be.
Schmidt, Restless Souls: The Making of American Spirituality from Emerson to Oprah (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005) pp. 1-2.
Gannet, William Channing, “It Sounds Along the Ages” in Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: Beacon Press and the Unitarian Universalist Association, 1993) #187.
This language is borrowed from a critique of Ralph Waldo Emerson in Schmidt, Leigh Eric, Restless Souls: The Making of American Spirituality from Emerson to Oprah (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005) p. xi.
